Thanksgiving Blues

Last year I was driving back from Atlanta, having dropped off my best friend at the hospital for more tests and procedures. Normally I stayed there with her, but my children needed me home. With all her treatments and tests, I'd hardly seen them. Her old college friends were in Atlanta and she'd spend the holidays with them. I was coming home to my kids.... and to you.

Traffic was hell and I ran so late. There would be no Thanksgiving dinner. I wouldn't even get home until after everyone's bed time. I wouldn't get to pick up my son's from the sitter. Only my daughter would be home waiting for me.

I called you in tears. You told me to stop by your Mom's on the way home. You said that there was plenty of food. I'd never met your mother or anyone outside of your children. You're mom's was only a half hour round trip out of the way and an hour and half before I'd get home.

I told you I'd come because I was so tired and hungry that I didn't think I'd make it home if I didn't stop for a break to eat.

I really came because I needed you. I needed to feel you're presence. You never touched me, yet you always felt like home. I needed you to tell me everything was going to be all right. I needed to see your smile and that look in your eyes that you got when you were worried about me. I needed to smile back and tell you that I'd be ok. That I was ok. Somehow always telling you that I was ok made me feel stronger.

I was so tapped out I didn't want to meet anyone new. I was wearing leggings and a sweatshirt so that I'd be comfortable for the long car ride. My hair was pulled back with sunglasses and the bags under my eyes showed the hours I'd logged driving. I'd left my house at 2am, and here we were at 9pm.

Yet, the minute I pulled up and saw you, everything was OK. You walked me in and sat me down at a table away from everyone. Then, your mother dove in. She was all the things a mother should be. Comforting, understanding, supportive. She made me a plate and then made a plate for me to take home to my daughter.

Do you remember that night? Your daughter was in the kitchen talking to other family across the bar. I heard her clearly say, "No, they're just BFFs" as you walked into the kitchen to get me something to drink. "Right Dad? You and her are just BFFs?" You replied something I couldn't hear and I heard her say, "Yeah, just BFFs".

Your mom told me later that she knew that night that you and I would end up together. She said that I was good for you. That she could see how much I loved you. She told me you could be difficult but that you were a good man.

Here we are, a year later. I don't know if you love me or if you ever did. You're no longer my best friend and there are no more trips to Atlanta because the cancer finally won and my other best friend is gone. I told myself my health issues were too intense to cook Thanksgiving today but the truth is that this Thanksgiving is too painful. This Thanksgiving I look around my life and realize my two best friends are gone. I've spent most of my life without best friends. I've been ok with that. Yet, I had two for a short time and felt less alone than I'd ever felt in my life. Somehow that makes today feel more alone than ever.

This Thanksgiving I'm sitting here at a computer, typing these words as tears stream down my face. I ache to go back in time just for a brief moment, to a time when my two best friends were in my life. To that time when I thought I was strong, loved, and able to conquer anything life threw at me.

I miss you.

I miss her.

This Thanksgiving sucks.

I Reside In Hell

I married him. After all, I stayed and I married him.

After, on our honeymoon, the suspicions and doubts I'd had but were never fully certain of were confirmed.

Months have passed and each day it seems that I discover more deceit. More untruths.

I married an absolute stranger.

I know only one thing, that I know nothing about him.

Each day is filled with deceit, dishonesty and lies. Each day is filled with his pretending to be something he isn't. Each day is filled with him accusing me of being something that I am not, while admitting to more lies. Each day is a contradiction of the day before.

He says that he loves me even as he lies to me about who he is, what he is, where he is and even who he is with. He says that he loves me even as he says that he would tell any lie to get what he wants. He says that he loves me even as he says that he doesn't care about my feelings. He says that he loves me even as he tells me that I am guilty of the very things he does.

He says that he knows I am as dishonest as him. He says that I must also have cheated. He calls me a hypocrite and a liar. He tells me that I do nothing but "whine" and "complain" about his dishonesty and that I have no right to do so.

He hates every fiber of me, and yet knows nothing about who I am.

Three years I have been in this warped relationship where he uses me at his whim and cares nothing for the damage or havoc he wrecks.

I fear admitting defeat.
     I fear admitting that I was completely and totally wrong.
          I fear admitting that I could have been so totally and completely conned and deceived.
                I fear what all of that will mean.

I know not who I am.
I know only what I am not.
And I am NOT any of the things he accuses me of.

Irony

His accusations never seem to cease.

He firmly believes that I am someone I am not.

He believes I am a selfish, jealous, manipulative woman that seeks to control and change him.

He told me in the beginning he was basing what he thought of me on his experiences with previous women he had dated.

Had he taken the time to get to know me, he would have been able to accurately determine my character.

Had he taken the time to get to know me, he would have been able to see what I could and could not do.

He still refuses me that.

He still refuses to take the opportunity to get to know me.

If he were to do so now, he could accurately determine who I was.

He could then discover that I have never been what he accused me of.

He could then know who I am.

Then, if he chose to reject me, he'd be rejecting me for who I am.

That would be easier to accept.

Instead, he chooses to reject me for someone he convinced himself that I was.

His reasons for doing so don't seem to matter anymore.

What matters is that he chooses to cling to the false belief that I am like every other woman he's ever dated or known.

One day he'll realize he was wrong.

If only....

If only I could hate him.

If only I could shut down all emotions.

If only I could be as emotionless as he appears.

Then it would be easier.

For the short term.

For being all those things would also mean that I would not be true to myself.

I am a person with a depth of emotion. The depth of pain I feel now enables me to also feel the depths of joy and love that I am capable of feeling.

It's worth it.

Even if it doesn't feel like it today.

Breakups

You know how when you are finally at the point of ending a relationship, and you are relieved that it's over? You tell yourself that in time you won't even think about the new ex anymore, and that any hurt will fade?

I don't feel relieved.

I don't want to forget.

Logic tells me that I am a fool and I need to believe his actions instead of his words.

My heart tells me that his love for me is deep and never ending.

I am conflicted.

I don't recall this having ever happened before.

I want him to love himself, like who he is, and be confident in his abilities. I want him to quit blaming himself for everything, and to quit thinking any and all of his previous failed relationships were completely his fault. I want him to learn that showing and sharing emotions do not make us weak, but strengthen us. I want him to know that a person can give another what they want, and it not be giving in or "changing". I want him to believe that he can accept my love because he is worthy of it. I want him to give me his love, even if he had to do it afraid. I want that connection. Even when logic tells me it can never happen, my heart won't let me stop believing.

And when the hell have I ever let heart trump logic??? Maybe he is right. Maybe truly loving someone completely does make us weak. I feel weak. I feel splintered. I feel hollow.

I'm just a big mess of walking contradictions! Now I am frustrated and angry.

I gave it my all, and I could't make it work. It didn't work because I was trying and he was just there. It takes two to make a relationship work. Each time he told me he didn't want to spend quality time with me or do something enjoyable with me because he didn't "like" it, I just wanted to punch him.

How royally screwed up is it that I want to hear the dogs barking, go to see who is outside, and see him standing there with a bouquet of flowers and plans to finally take me and give me his undivided attention?

Shit.

I'm stuck in a Disney fairytale.

Only life has never given me happy endings.

Where does time go......

My last post was a month after I met him. I've been with him ever since. Until yesterday.

He and I both felt a connection that neither of us had ever felt before. It was as if we had an energy that bound us, flowed through us, and made each of us stronger. The depth of emotion we felt (well, I know I felt) was intense and unlike anything I've ever known. I was certain that the connection we felt was proof that we were meant to be together. I honestly felt, and even now feel, that we were created to be together. We fit, perfectly.

And somehow I fell into the same old habits. The same things I had promised myself I would never do again. I justified the sacrifices for what I thought we had.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. When his dishonesty was first discovered, I listened to his reason and accepted it as truth. With each subsequent episode of deception, I listened to his reasons and clung to his promises that he would never do it again.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. I put forth all the effort for us to see one another.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. I worked diligently to build a friendship with him.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. I gave up my friends to attempt to soothe his jealousy, insecurity, and false accusations.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. I begged and pleaded for his time, attention and energy.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. I believed his reasons, even when I knew they were not true.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. I settled for our few dates being only restaurants, and even then only his favorites.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. I gave up plans, goals and vacations waiting for him to follow through with his promises to do those things with me.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. Throughout the entire time that one of his exes stalked, harassed and tormented me, as he stood by refusing to stop it, telling me I was a drama queen for allowing such harassment to bother me.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. I spent three more months giving him opportunity to invest in our relationship and friendship, AFTER he told me that he didn't want to do anything with me outside of what we were already doing.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. Even after his assurance that he didn't want me for anything then we had presently made me feel like a used piece of ass.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. Past the point that I believed I had given my all.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. I kept believing in him, in us, in the plans we had made.
I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. After he told me that he was going to give to his ex, that which he had denied me.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. After he told me that ex had inserted herself into our relationship, and he did nothing to prevent it.

I gave
     and
           gave
                and gave. Him my body, my love, my soul, my devotion, my loyalty, my sincerity, my honesty, my openness, my sacrifice.

He took
     and
          took
               and took. Even after I told him that I needed him to put forth some effort.

He took
     and
          took
               and took. Even after I told him that I needed him to meet me in the middle.

He took
     and
          took
               and took. Even after I pleaded with him to allow us to develop a friendship.

He took
     and
          took
               and took. Even after I told him that I needed his honesty.

He took
     and
          took
               and took. Even after I sacrificed all I had to give.

He took
     and
          took
               and took. Even after I told him that I felt as if I were being treated like a piece of ass.

He took
     and
          took
               and took. After I told him I was empty.

He took
     and
          took
               and took. After I told him that if things stayed the same it would destroy me, shatter me, and break me.

He took
     and
          took
               and took. Even when I begged and pleaded for some sign that he wanted our relationship and friendship to succeed.

He took
     and
          took
               and took. Even when I told him that I just needed him to make some teeny tiny effort for me to stay.

I have sat today and read through each blog post that I've made as Splintered Crimson. I have wondered how I made the same mistakes I was certain I would never make. Why would I justify those things simply because of a connection and absolute conviction that we were created to be together.

I am broken. I am shattered. I am splintered.

In the words of Soundgarden, "I've given everything I need, I'd give you everything I own, I'd give in if it could at least be ours alone, I've given everything I could."  

I can stand here today, separate and apart from him and know that I gave him much more than my all. I handed him my entire being. I gave him the parts I'd never given anyone.

Again, in the words of Soundgarden, "Nothing seems to kill me, no matter how hard I try. Nothing is closing my eyes. Nothing can bet me down for your pain or delight. And nothing seems to break me, no matter how hard I fall nothing can break me at all. Not one for giving up, though invincible I know.   

I still know that he and I were created to be together. We were designed as one, and we fit together. Perfectly. 

I still believe but have no hope. 

I now doubt. Was his words the truth or were his actions? Does he love me and want to spend his life with me or does he want to give me nothing except on his terms, and the way he likes, while dismissing my needs? Was I merely company, conversation and sex and nothing more or did he long for us to be more but let his own issues interfere? 

I no longer can hope. I can no longer be certain. 

The only thing that I know is that he and I were created to be together. 

     I thought that meant we would be. 

          I thought that meant I could give everything I had to him & he'd cherish, appreciate, protect it. 

     I thought that meant that the investments would be worth the gain. 

I thought that meant we'd spend our lives together. 

We all have someone out there made for us. Someone we are supposed to spend our lives with. Someone that will be the yin to our yang and balance us. Someone that will be our opposite to everyone else's eyes due to the balance we must give one another, but when it comes to who we are inside the two will be the same. 

Yet, that doesn't mean that it will work. Everything in life is a choice. We have to choose to deal with our baggage. We have to choose to deal with our past. We have to chose to battle our demons and win. We have to chose to do the hard stuff so that we can have the good stuff. 

For the first time in my life, I know that I will no longer make the same mistakes. I will never again give myself to someone that doesn't appreciate me. I will no longer give myself to someone that doesn't want me to. I will no longer give myself to someone that denies me a return. I will no longer give myself to someone that rejects me, criticizes me, betrays me or forsakes me. 

I will no longer fall into all the sacrificial givings that I have fallen prey to. 

I can be confident of this. Because I have no doubts that I will never date again. How could I be with another knowing that I was created to be with him? How unfair would that be to another? 

Life is a bitch. I'm pissed at God as I've remained for some time. You can not miss that which you do not now exists. But now I long and crave and desire with a passion that seeks to consume me that which I now know exists but has been denied to me. 18 years he and I were around each other on and off, but never did our paths cross. We were sometimes less than a football field away from each other, but never met. Yet now, now the forces that be bring us together only to deny us that which we are destined to have. Yeah, life is a bitch. 

             

Hauntings

I walked into that store I abhor and never go to. Today, my craving for a DiGiorno Spicy Chicken pizza (that only that store sales) overcame my aversion to the store itself.

I got just to the main, massive aisle that runs behind all the registers and saw my aunt! I was so excited and as I turned to walk towards her I instantly smiled and thought of my usual greeting, "Hey beautiful!"

I don't know how many steps I took.

I don't think it was more than three or four.

When I realized "it", I stumbled.

I froze.

I looked again and she was still there!

But it couldn't be her.

It's not even been a year yet.

Almost.

But not quite.

I quickly ducked into the freezer aisle where only one older lady stood. I was crying and shaking.

Life just hasn't been the same without her in it. She was my rock, my backbone, the mother when my own abandoned me.

I miss her.

Cancer sucks.

Moments....

 I have come to the conclusion, most recently in my 37 years, that life is made up of moments and nothing more. We choose which of those moments to cling to. We ourselves determine which of those moments will mold us and direct us. Some may choose to grasp moments of negativity, forever letting those moments hold them hostage and sway their decisions. I was one of those people for many years.

Then, I became sick. I spent a year and half in bed with a nurse caring for my most intimate needs. In despair, all I could see was that I was no longer a mother to my children, a friend to others, a daughter to be proud of, a person of worth. My young children were growing up on their own. I was not able to guide them, direct them, supervise them. My heart was crushing within me. I was told I would not make it past 10 years. I was suffocating. Although my illness should have given me a better understanding of the immune system issues my son had fought through his life, I couldn't get past the moments I clung to of negativity.

The moment the doctor told me I would never be better.

The moment my friends abandoned me stating that they could not stand to see me in so much pain.

The moment my son and daughter stood by my bed crying because they wanted to cuddle but their touches brought me such immense pain I would scream out, despite my deepest resolve not to.

Then, I had a nurse. A beautiful woman by the name of Shirley. I doubt she even understands the impact she had on me. Mrs. Shirley refused to accept the doctors doom and gloom predictions. “Imperfect men”, she would tell me. “Only God knows everything”, she would say. For each negative thing I had to say about the state of my body, she had three more positive things to say. Through persistence and unconditional love, this woman pushed me to stand up for myself. She pushed me to tell the doctors “No More” when I felt the medications were creating worse damage. Once I refused the doctor's 21 prescriptions, she pushed me to work on moving my body. Again, I clung to moments.  

The moment that she held my elbows up so that I could wash my own hair.

The moment I sat upright an entire evening propped on pillows in my bed.

The moment my children learned if they ran a light finger along my arm, I could tolerate their touch.

Yet, I didn't realize yet that life is made up of moments. I sought a physical therapist that would help me walk again. When the therapist came to the house, I clung to that moment.

The moment I was told, “You are living in denial. You are never going to get better. You are never going to walk. Until you accept this, you will never be happy again.”

Yet again, Mrs. Shirley came to my rescue. I again grasped hold of moments.

The moment I sat at the dining room table, watching my very young children help Mrs. Shirley prepare a meal.

The moment I was able to put a bit of my food into my own mouth.

The moment I took my first step.

Yet still, I didn't realize that life is made up of moments. As I moved towards life, I still held onto so many negative moments. Highlights of my life, moments that should have been treasures, became my anchors. The moments of my past became what I clung to.

The moment I hiked that gorgeous waterfall.

The moment I drove a stick shift down a curvy road at sunrise.

The moment I swam across the lake and back.

The moment I saw my first paycheck as an order selector.

The moment I ran and played with my children on the playground.

The moment I spent my night dancing.

My life was held in moments.....of the past. I was left with my present suffocating still. My choices in life were based off the moments of my past. The moments I could no longer relive. Those moments held me hostage and resulted in bad decision after bad decision.

One of those decisions resulted in my becoming pregnant with my third child. In an attempt to provide my children with something I felt I no longer was able to give them, I dove into a relationship. A business deal that ended sourly. However, with the pregnancy my rheumatic diseases that had left me so terribly crippled went into remission. I still fought other chronic illnesses and pain, yet I was grasping such beautiful moments.

The moment I went camping for three months on the AT as a pregnant single mother of two.

The moment I hiked a beautiful waterfall.

The moment I drove a car down beautiful, curvy, mountain roads.

The moment I swam in the swirling waters at the base of the falls.

The moment I hiked a mountain to view the sunrise.

The moment I watched the sunset over the mountains from the fire tower.

I clung to these moments as my child grew within me. I battled some seriously difficult months where pain mounted from my other chronic health issues, yet eventually they would ebb to the edges of my being, allowing me to do much of what I enjoyed. I realized during this time that on the bad days, I must find my “happy thought”, my moment. On the bad days my moments became seemingly small. Moments that I could grab from where I laid in bed.

The moment a caterpillar crawled along my windowsill

The moment a humming bird nipped at the feeder

The moment the sun shone through the leaves

The moment my children's laughter would fill the morning.

However, I still did not realize that my life was made up of moments. Even in the midst of having to find a moment to cling to before I could start my day, I had no realization of that fact.

There were other moments I grasped and clung to that defined who I was and forever altered the decisions I would make.

The moment the doctor said, “Your son's (Pookie) diagnosis is High Functioning Autism”

The moment the doctor said, “Your son (Keegan) has Asperger Syndrome.”

The moment he said, “I'm leaving you, I'm never coming back, I never loved you. Your health problems and your kids special needs are too much for any husband to handle”

However, a year and a half ago, I came out of remission from my rheumatic diseases. I felt the change within me and, though I sought to deny it to myself, I knew what was happening. I pushed myself so very hard the last several weeks to provide my children with moments.

The moment my children and I visited Lake Lure

The moment I hiked the glorious mountain trails with water bottles and children in tow

The moment I lounged on the deck watching the kids play in the pool

The moment I walked the beach with my children looking for sea shells

The moment I swam in the ocean as the waves threatened to knock me over

I didn't realize that life was made up of moments. Yet, there were more to come.

The moment I heard, “I'm sorry to say, you were right. Your ANAs are elevated again. We need to discuss treatment”

The moment my closest friend said, “Refusal of treatment is the same as refusing to be a mother to your children”

The moment my mother said, “It doesn't matter if the medicines make you sick, you need to live as long as you can for your children.”

The moment my friends walked away because they couldn't stand to see me in pain

The moment my children's faces locked in fear as I told them the news of my coming out of remission

The moment the doctor said, “6 to 12 years is the average life expectancy for someone that doesn't respond to treatment. Without treatment, it may not be that”

The moment tears streamed down my face as I told my children, ages 6, 12, 15 that I was refusing treatment and what that meant.

I still didn't grasp that life is made up of moments. I could only, once again, cling to the moments of a past that no longer seem to relate to me.

The moment I paid the bills each month in full

The moment I would get a job and nothing stopped me from doing it

The moment my son's neurologist told me he had advanced so far due to my pushing for early intervention in his treatment.

The moment I had taken a mortgage out on a home

The moment I had taken my kids to a restaurant

The moment I took my children to a drive in movie

The moment our family went ice skating

The moment we had hiked and saw the baby deer with spots

I was once again living in the moments of the past, allowing it to hold me hostage to the present and the future. I started a “Bucket List'. Each day I added new things. I had no idea that there were so many experiences I wanted to have. Now that my days were numbered, I felt compelled to do so many things. I would have an experience and jot it down in my bucket list journal after the fact.

As the months passed by, I begin to notice that each thing I listed in my bucket list were moments. I slowly began to see that everything in life was made up of moments. That moments is what we had, what we grasped, what moved us. I realized that I wanted my life to be made up of moments each and every day. I set out to create moments. These moments weren't the same as those I had when I was healthier, yet they were moments to be treasured just the same. As I actively begin to create moments, I was able to reflect on moments from the past with joy. My moments today are different.

The moment I feel the water cascade over my body as I sit on the shower floor

The moment I lie my neck on the heating pad at night

The moment my child puts his arms around me, squeezing just the right amount not to cause pain

The moment I can open a bottle by myself

The moment I'm able to shave my legs

The moment I'm able to blow dry my hair

The moment I'm able to play trains with my son

The moment I'm able to sing along in the car with my children

The moment I'm able to stand in the rain as my children dance and play around me

The moment I'm able to look out my window and see the moon filter through the leaves

My moments are different, yet they are mine. They are beautiful in their own right.

Last night I had a moment that I wanted to share with you, a moment in some way that I already have shared with you. Last night I watched “The Intouchables”. Watching this movie was filled with moments for me.

The moment in the beginning of the film when I wondered, “How can you be so humorous about your condition?”

The moment when he handed him the phone, forgetting that he was bound by invisible chains in a prison that was not of his own making and realizing how delightful it is when someone sees you and not your disability.

The moment I realized that one of my boyfriend's greatest appeals is that he sees me and not my disability, even as he cares for my needs.

The moment when he spoke of pity and I understood so well.

The moment when he saw Paris at night and realized that life is about moments.

The moment when he had to stand up to his daughter, presumably feeling as inadequate as I do when I wonder if I'll be able to enforce anything I say to them.

The moment his phantom pains struck and he stood by his side to comfort him, just as my boyfriend has done for me when the pain is so unbearable that I wish someone would knock me unconscious.

The moment she walked up to his table

The moment he para-sailed, refusing to let his disabilities keep him from that which he loved and which broke his body to begin with.

The moment tears streamed down my face because I remembered that I am not alone, that others are here with me, sharing these moments.

Each day still adds more moments, some are saddening and have a tendency to want to weigh you down.

The moment he tells you that he just woke up and decided he didn't care about you anymore and wanted to break up.

The moment when you realize you are taking substantially less than something is valued at, simply because you must pay the bills that are due for disconnect.

The moment when you consider moving to a warmer climate because you can not tolerate the pain of the cold any longer.

Yet, in the midst of these moments, you must choose which ones to cling to. I choose to cling to other moments.

My children and I share a solid and inseparable bond.

I have friends that truly love and respect me.

Our most basic needs are always met somehow (food, clothing, shelter)

An angel gave my children a Christmas they otherwise would not have had.

Our family helps others.

I love myself.